Music, Sweet Music
by Wife of the Black Wolf
Summary: Christine leaves her husband to start a new life as a playwright. But will the past let her go? r&r please! First fic
1. Old Regrets, New Beginnings

**Chapter 1: Old Regrets, New Beginnings**

She followed him, she had to. Raoul had been away and came home smelling of perfume and sex two nights ago. Sticking to the shadows, Christine de Chagny watched her husband as he left his carriage and walked into the building. Was she right about him? Was he seeing another woman behind her back? Without thinking twice, she followed him inside. She peered around until she heard him upstairs. Christine followed silently hidden by the darkness. Just as she climbed to the second level, she heard his laugh mingled with a woman's. As quietly as she could muster, she inched towards the doorway. She heard them inside.

"Oh Raoul, I missed you! Couldn't you have come sooner?" They kissed. It made Christine sick.

"I'm sorry my dear but you know I couldn't get away sooner." The girl groaned and whined.

"It's all that damned wife of yours. Why haven't you left her yet?" Raoul sighed.

"It would look very bad if I left her, especially after I saved her from that monster." The girl giggled.

"Tell that story to me again." He laughed and started walking further inside. Christine began to cry. But it wasn't for her lost husband. It was for the man who truly owned her heart. She gave a shuddering sigh.

"Oh Erik…"

_**One month later…**_

She had left him, finally, two weeks ago. He seemed shocked by it but she never faltered. She ran to a kind woman who always looked after her. After some time, she met her son. He used to play with her and Raoul as children. This helped her greatly get back on her feet. Christine decided on a new life. Christine Daaé died in the Phantom's lair and the Viscountess de Chagny died in that building of her husband's lover. After the kind woman had finished cutting and coloring it, she smiled at the girl.

"Who are you now child?" Christine looked at her reflection.

"Christine Amouré-Louver."


	2. New Life

**Chapter 2: New Life**

_**Two years later…**_

"Ms. Christine?" She snapped out of her reverie and looked at her friend and valet, a gypsy named Rumen. He was 25, a good six years older than her. She smiled at him.

"We're here already?" He nodded and helped her descend from the carriage. The theater house in front of them was grand indeed but it wasn't the Opera Populaire. She sighed at the distant memory, and then climbed up the stairs. It was the premier of her newest play _Ghosts of the Past_. This theater company was the only one who would even look at her work. The Theater Amour was well known for having not only wonderful plays but exotically different plays. Rumen stood beside her and contrasted her greatly. This darkly tanned skin and pure black hair. His right ear was pierced twice and had two gold hoops. The rich society of Paris looked at them with suspicion. Christine smiled at her friend.

"Shall we?" He took her hand and led her forward. The grand foyer was lit entirely of candles. The regulars to the theater swarmed her and asked all about the new play. Rumen stayed silent at her side as the Mademoiselle smiled and waved them to silence.

"Please, please. Monsieurs, Mademoiselles, Madams. You must watch the play. You wouldn't want me to ruin the story now would you?" They laughed politely. A man, who saw her last two plays, raised his hand.

"Mademoiselle Louver, will the ending be the same as our other wonderful pieces?" Christine flashed a dazzling smile.

"I can not tell you Monsieur but it is a very interesting tale." The sound of soft bells chimed through the room, signaling for everyone to take their seats. "Ah, now you shall see for yourself. Rumen." She exited with her valet behind her. As she climbed the stairs to her box seat, Christine failed to notice the tall Persian standing by the steps.


	3. Once Again We Meet

**Chapter 3: Once Again We Meet**

The play ended with the thunder of applause and cheers. The actors came and bowed them the manager came out on stage.

"May I present the marvelous playwright of this play, Mademoiselle Christine Amouré-Louver!" She stood up in her box and curtsied. She bowed again then sat down. The manager smiled.

"May you all have a restful evening and come back again." The people began exiting. Christine sat and watched everything around her. She looked across the way to box five of the theater. She thought of Erik and wondered if he was watching her even now from the shadows. Her thoughts were stopped when someone knocked on her door. Rumen looked to her and she nodded. It was the manager with another man. Christine kept looking at the theater.

"Mademoiselle, this is Monsieur Lavonné** from the Paris Opera House and he--." She cut him off.**

**"I don't write opera. You know this." The manager stammered forward.**

**"I know but he seems very interested in--."**

**"I don't write opera. Now please stop wasting my time." The man next to the manager took a step forward.**

**"I came to speak about how your plays seem to diverge people from my operas." Christine stiffened and took in a deep breath. That voice… It couldn't be! He kept moving forward until he was fully in the room. Slowly she turned in her chair and looked into the white leather mask that she only dreamed of the last three years.**

**"Erik…"**


	4. Memories of Shadows

**Chapter 4: Memories of Shadows**

Slowly she stood up and looked into the face she only dreamed of these last three years. He didn't change, still wearing black and still in perfect health. His body still seemed to be stunning… She closed her eyes to expel the thought and took a breath.

"What would you like me to do Monsieur? Stop writing?" She opened her eyes and looked into those intense blue eyes. She hoped he wouldn't recognize her in these shadows. He tilted his head up.

"On the contrary. I would like you to write for us." She scoffed and smiled.

"There must be something wrong with your hearing Monsieur. I don't write opera. Now if you will excuse me, we must be leaving now. Rumen." He gypsy bowed and walked behind his Mistress. She walked past her love without showing any emotion. She turned to the manager.

"Monsieur Devereux, thank you once again for performing one of my plays." He smiled and waved it away like an idiot.

"It was my pleasure Mademoiselle. May I call you a cab?" Once again, she put on her dashing smile.

"That won't be necessary. Good night Monsieur Devereux." She turned to Erik one last time and smiled. "Good night Monsieur Lavonné, please come again to see another of my plays." With that she turned and left. Upon exiting, Erik noticed the burette in her hair, it was a butterfly. He remembered giving it to her one day during lessons.

_Christine pushed her hair out of the way angrily. He turned over from his organ and looked at her. She looked at him and apologized._

_"My hair keeps getting in the way. I'm terribly sorry Erik." He sighed and came up behind her. She tensed as he gently caressed her throat and pulled back her hair. He dug his fingers into it and held it there while he bent down to her ear._

_"Sing," he whispered. And she sang. It was very beautiful, like the first time she was brought to his lair. The feel of his body next to hers with this breath on her neck and his fingers in her hair… It was almost unbearable. When she stopped, Erik slowly removed his hands and moved away. Christine let out a shuddering sigh, almost wishing it wouldn't end. A few seconds later, he did the same thing only this time, he clipped it up with a burette. Curiously, she fingered it and felt it was made out of beads in the form of a butterfly. She turned her head up to see Erik._

_"It suits you perfectly." He picked up her hand and kissed it. "When the time is right, the butterfly will soar…_

He followed her immediately. The truth for his finding her was to torture her about her leaving the Viscount, to show her that she couldn't have him even if she begged. But something was different from her completely. She wasn't the same child that he gave lessons to. She was fully reborn into a beautiful woman. He got to the stairs leading down to the grand foyer and saw Christine and her valet, Rumen.

"Christine!" She stopped and turned and looked up at him. A memory came back to her just after she left Raoul.

_She sat by the fire just staring into it. The woman she ran to, Marilynn, put down her book and looked at her young charge._

_"Tell me child, is it him who invades your thoughts tonight." Christine turned to her friend with a look of almost shock._

_"Marilynn…" She smiled lovingly._

_"What will you do, child. Will you go running back to the man you left for your husband?" That made Christine think about him. Was she really only using him this entire time. No! He deserved better than that._

_"No, I won't use him for myself… I will never run back into his arms… No matter how much I want to…" Marilynn looked at her with sad eyes._

Christine shook her tears and headed straight for the door. She couldn't bear to look at his eyes.


	5. Let the Game Begin

**Chapter 5: Let the Game Begin**

"Christine!" No! She wouldn't run back to him, not after what she did. Tears came down freely as Rumen signaled the carriage to come. She heard the door open and heard his steps.

"Look at me Christine!" She lowered her head and took a breath before she spoke.

"Why do you pursue me Erik?" He took a step.

"You know why Christine." Another

"How can you pursue me Erik?" Another.

"You know why Christine." Another.

"No I don't! I don't understand how you can after I-" She stopped herself by clasping a hand over her mouth. Rumen looked at her with sad eyes. He knew nothing of what was taking place, but he knew it was causing her much pain. He extended his hand to help her into the carriage. Erik took another step.

"After you what, Christine?" She didn't answer, only took hold of Rumen's hand. "After you what!" She turned back to him fiercely.

"After I abandoned you, my love!" With that said, she entered the carriage and wept. Did he hear her right? Her love? Erik advanced on the carriage, determined to see her.

"Christine!" Rumen held his hand out to stop him.

"I'm sorry sir, but I can not let you see her at this time." Christine looked up to meet his blue eyes. Oh, those wonderful blue eyes that have haunted her till this day. She extended a hand as if to reach for him, when her own words rang in her mind.

_"No, I won't use him for myself… I will never run back into his arms… No matter how much I want to…"_ She closed her eyes and turned her hand into a fist. Trying as hard as she could no not break her voice, she spoke.

"Leave Erik. Please." Erik looked at her. His heart reached for her. It never left her, no matter how much he wanted to hate her, he couldn't. Her voice still echoed in his heart.

"Christine…" Her soul wretched at the soft tone he took to her name. But she couldn't break his heart again.

"Leave! Go! Forget me! Never see me again! Please!" Rumen went back inside the carriage and closed the door. He knocked on the ceiling and they were off. Erik stood there, staring after them. She wouldn't return to him. Why? Why wouldn't she embrace him! He set his eyes after them with a quiet storm raging inside. He would find out why she rejected him. He reached in his pocket and took out the ring she returned to him that fateful night. He recalled her question.

_"Why do you pursue me Erik?"_ He turned the ring

"I love you with all my heart." Once again the question came.

_"How can you pursue me Erik?"_ His heart beat so strong.

"I crave you more than life itself." He clutched the ring. "I will have you once again, my angel. You will be mine, now and forever." He turned on his heal and headed for the Paris Opera House.


	6. What Unspoken Secrets Will We Learn?

**Chapter 6: What Unspoken Secrets Will We Learn?**

Tears still came down form Christine's cheeks. It was three years ago that she last saw his face until today. Rumen looked at her kindly and waited a moment before asking.

"Ms. Christine?" She looked up at him with wide eyes. He sighed and took a handkerchief and handed it to her. She gave a shaky smile and wiped her eyes. After a few moments she spoke quietly.

"I love that man. I love him with all my heart." Rumen looked at her then.

"Then please, Ms. Christine, why wouldn't you go to him?" New tears began brimming.

"I broke his heart once Rumen. I don't want to do it again. And I will never let him feel that he is nothing more than a comforter for my own being." Rumen saw in her eyes the memories of the past. He had to do something for her. He smiled at his employer and patted her hand.

"Don't worry, Ms. Christine. Everything will work out fine." She smiled at her friend and gazed out the window the rest of the way home.

_**Later that night…**_

Rumen sat down around the kitchen table with the rest of the staff. They consisted of Floricá, his wife, Branko, the cook, Yanoro, the gardener, Valentina, his wife, Corin, the stable manager, Luminitsa, his wife, and Ion, the main house manager. He told them what happened and Floricá looked at him in disbelief.

"Miss Christine is in love with a man?" Branko ran his hand through his dark hair.

"What did you say he was employed in?" Rumen sighed.

"The opera. That might explain the music room. The only time I ever see her in there is once a year, always on the same day." Floricá went to the pantry to get out something to snack on.

"Rumen, I think you should talk to this Erik Lavonné. Go now, it's not too late to see him. Miss Christine is asleep." Corin looked at her with a smile.

"I thought you believed in following her orders." She shrugged then put the cookies she baked earlier out.

"If she loves this man, she should be with him. She deserves a good man after that "husband" of hers committed such a crime." She eyed her husband. "If you ever do such a thing, I won't just leave you. I'll cut you to pieces and feed you to the dogs." They all laughed as Rumen tried to reassure his wife it would never happen. He did leave for the Paris Opera House. He wasn't received but said he wished to speak to Monsieur Lavonné. They let him in and brought him to the composer's office. The man knocked. A dark, frustrated voice answered.

"What is it?" Rumen was having second thoughts.

"A gentleman is here to see you." He heard scuffling.

"Tell him to leave." Before he could be dismissed by the doorman he spoke up.

"It's about Miss Christine!" There was silence until he heard footsteps. The door opened and there stood the masked man he met earlier. His hair was a mess, his jacket and vest was gone, only his pants, shirt and shoes remained. He nodded to the doorman and he left.

"Come in." Rumen walked in and looked around. It was a spacious place but covered with papers. Erik walked to the desk and sat down.

"What do you want?" Rumen took a deep breath before advancing.

"I wish to speak to you about Miss Christine." He didn't look up from his work.

"Yes I heard you the first time." Rumen went further in.

"You do know, she loves you, Monsieur." Erik stopped and looked up at him with burning eyes.

"Where would you get an idea like that?" Rumen didn't back down.

"She told me herself. I came to see if you truly loved her as well." He got up from his chair and started advancing.

"You know nothing of the things I have done in the name of my love for that woman. If she loved me so much, why did she leave me?" Rumen looked confused.

"I don't know, but she says that's partially the reason why she won't run to you." Erik's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

"What are you talking about, gypsy?" He took a deep breath of the name.

"My name is Rumen." Erik seemed to be getting more annoyed than before.

"Alright, Rumen. What are you talking about?" The gypsy took a minute to compose himself.

"She said she didn't want to break your heart again. She didn't want to use you for her own benefit." The masked man laughed.

"A little late for that isn't it. Leave, tell her the angel of hell will not care if she pleads." A sudden idea popped into Rumen's mind. He peered at the composer.

"Did she ever call you her Angel of Music?" Erik went ridged.

"What?"

"Did she?" He turned around to look at the valet.

"How do you know that?" Rumen smiled.

"She has a special gift for you in the music room." Erik smiled.

"I don't suppose she would sing for me." The gypsy looked puzzled.

"Sing? Miss Christine can sing?" This time it was the older man to be puzzled.

"What do you mean? Of course she can sing. She has the voice of an angel!" Rumen held up his hands in defense.

"I wouldn't know sir, I have never heard the Mademoiselle sing." Erik laughed at the title then stopped. He turned back to the young man.

"How long have you been working for her?" He seemed to be pondering.

"About two years." Two years! She hasn't sung in TWO YEARS! Once again he turned to the gypsy.

"How did you know about the angel?" He only smiled.

"She has a grand piano. Beautiful, pure black with gold vines and leaves decorating it. There's a gold plaque on it as well that says, "To my Angel of Music, As you own my heart and soul, you also own my voice." I never knew what it meant until I met you." Erik seemed to be deep in thought. He looked at the valet again.

"Why have you come here?" The man smiled smugly.

"I've come to help you."


	7. Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again

**Chapter 7:Wishing you were somehow here again…**

Christine woke in the middle of the night, the moon streamed in through her window. What time was it? Who cared, she decided to go downstairs for maybe a snack. She descended down the grand staircase and headed for the kitchen when she stopped and looked at the door to the music room. She often had dreams of hearing Erik's voice singing from that room, playing the piano with a smile. Then she would wake up alone in her bed as always. Christine took a look around then slowly, silently, stepped up to the door. She carefully unlocked it and opened it. The high windows were drawn and the moon shone through. The light reflected off the smooth black surface of the grand piano and lighted the gold inlays. As if in a trance, she went to the piano. Tracing a finger along its surface, Christine began to hum a tune she once sung for her love. Then the words came.

_You were once my one companion . . .  
you were all that mattered . . .   
You were once a friend and father,  
then my world was shattered . . .  
_

She sat down at the piano bench and traced the gold plaque she had made.

_Wishing you were somehow here again . . .  
wishing you were somehow near . . .  
Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed,  
somehow you would be here . . .  
_

She wanted him near her now, playing as she sang, just like before.

Wishing I could hear your voice again . . .  
knowing that I never would . . .  
Dreaming of you won't help me to do  
all that you dreamed I could . . .

She gave a sigh as she remembered his smile when she sang perfectly.

Passing bells and sculpted angels,  
cold and monumental,  
seem, for you the wrong companions -  
you were warm and gentle . . .  
Too many years fighting back tears . . .  
Why can't the past just die . . .?

Tears began to brim as her voice grew and grew.

Wishing you were somehow here again . . .  
knowing we must say goodbye . . .  
Try to forgive, teach me to live . . .  
give me the strength to try . . .

Then she remembered his eyes as she once again rejected him.

No more memories, no more silent tears . . .  
No more gazing across the wasted years . . .  
Help me say goodbye.

She stood up and back away from the piano. Suddenly, the image of her Erik sitting at the piano and working on a new opera became so clear, she reached for him. Ever so softly, she sang again their song.

In sleep he sang to me…

In dreams he came…

That voice which calls to me…

And speaks my name….

Tears came down as the image faded. A shuddering sob escaped her throat as she fell to her knees. She put her hands in her hands and wailed.

"Erik! Oh God, what have I done!" She cried harder as she fell all the way to the floor. The moonlight bathed her in its cold embrace as she let loose every sorrow in her being. Soon she was asleep, tears still seeping down, unaware of the shadow lurking in the dark.


	8. Have You Dreamt Tonight?

**Chapter 8: Have You Dreamt Tonight?**

Christine could hear music, a piano specifically. But it wasn't just any piano music, it was his. Only his could make you feel so many things at once and yet nothing at all. Her eyes fluttered open slowly. She was in the music room, lying on the couch and the music still played. She looked over to the piano. There sat Erik, dressed in black, wearing his mask, playing on it. She sat up slowly.

"I'm dreaming…," she whispered. As if on cue, he began to sing a very familiar song.

Stranger than you dreamt it  
Can you even dare to look  
Or bear to think of me

She sat up properly, and starred at his figure of her imagination and listened.

This loathsome gargoyle  
Who burns in hell  
But secretly yearns for heaven  
Secretly, Secretly  
Christine...

He cast a look at her. Those blue eyes that enchanted her so, vibrated with life.

Fear can turn to love  
You'll learn to see  
To find the man  
Behind the monster

The realization dawned on her, this wasn't a dream. For once in her life, it wasn't a dream.

This repulsive carcass  
Who seems a beast  
But secretly  
Dreams of beauty  
Secretly, secretly…

He stopped playing and slowly took his fingers away from the keys and fully looked at her. He seemed almost perfect there, the sunlight shining off of the white mask.

"Oh, Christine." He got up and crossed over to her. Standing there, he traced her jaw gently, ever so gently. His touch was real and she reveled in it. His hand caressed her neck as he went to his knees. "Christine…" He stroked her face lovingly. Maybe she did love him. Christine's hand came up and touched his face, his breath caught. He pushed back her hair. Oh how he missed her long curls. But there was something strangely intriguing about this new look. He brought his lips closer to hers when a knock resonated through the room. As if an alarm went off, the two froze. Christine slowly withdrew as Ion entered.

"Miss Christine? Oh! I'm terribly sorry." Christine took Erik's hands off of her and placed them softly away from her.

"It's alright Ion. What is it?" The man seemed uneasy.

"It's…it's him again." Her face went from a gentle thoughtfulness to a sorrowful darkness. She stood up, straightened her clothes and touched up her hair. Rumen came in with a dark look on his face. Christine nodded and headed out of the music room. Erik stood up and wondered who could turn his Christine so dark. He turned to Ion for an answer.

"Who has come?" Ion looked at the masked man with a solemn expression.

"The Viscount de Chagny."


	9. What Deal Shall We Make?

**Chapter 9: What Deal Shall We Make?**

Christine entered the grand foyer with a practiced face. There stood her husband, former husband. When he realized she was there, he turned around and smiled at her.

"Ah, Christine. You look lovely as always." He advanced to try and grasp her hand but she moved off to the side.

"What do you want Raoul?" The viscount sighed and dropped his hand.

"I want you Christine." She gave a harsh laugh and sneered at the man.

"To late for that, now isn't it "dear husband"?" She spit out the last word as if it were venom. Raoul's eyes grew dark.

"I'm no longer like that Christine. Please—"

"Please what? Please turn your pretty face away as I get another lover?" She stood there with her hands at her sides and thought she didn't need him at all. She let loose a deep sigh as she ran a hand through her auburn hair. "You're wasting your time. Now leave." With that she turned and went upstairs to her writing room. When she reached the top of the stairs, she stopped and turned back.

"Rumen?" He turned to her.

"Yes Miss Christine?" She had the same indifferent look on her beautiful face.

"May I speak to you for a minute in my writing room?" A few minutes later as she began shuffling through her papers, Rumen ascended into her private domain. Papers were all over the green room, ideas for plays, costume designs, contracts, everything was everywhere. Upon hearing the door shut, Christine turned to her valet with such fury.

"Where do you get the gull to interfere with my personal life?" The gypsy looked at her harmlessly.

"I don't know what you mean, Miss Christine." She glared daggers at him.

"I told you I had no desire to—." He stepped forward interrupting.

"As I recall, Mistress, you loved this man and wanted to return to him." He sighed. "Please, Miss Christine, he's here for you. Won't you at least try and be social with him?" She turned back to her papers and sighed.

"He may stay here, like the others. You man put him under the same agreements as well. Now leave and tend to our new guest." He smiled to himself as he bowed.

"Yes Mademoiselle." He left the room quietly, leaving his Mistress to her work. He will get the two together, even if he had to climb through hell to do it.


	10. The Phantom of the Opera is There

**Chapter 10: The Phantom of the Opera is there**

Erik stood there in the shadows, watching his Christine walk into the grand foyer where her husband stood waiting for her. With amazement he stayed there watching and hearing the way she presented herself so coldly to him.

"Please what? Please turn your pretty face away as I get another lover?" His eyes widened. What? The viscount had a lover? Rage trembled through out his limbs. He took another woman when he had Christine? HIS Christine! When she retreated upstairs and took Rumen with her, he decided to come out of the shadows slowly. He leaned against a column. The boy seemed almost disrupted. Erik shook his head.

"You are a fool, boy." Raoul turned around suddenly and rested his eyes on the man who once held a noose around his neck.

"Monster! What are you doing here?" He merely smirked at his answer. He walked slowly across to another column.

"You had a mistress when I gave you Christine. No, you're not a fool; you're an idiot, a moron, a cad, a jerk, a cur, an imbecile, and a villain. Should I add to the list?" Raoul reddened with anger.

"Where do you get off telling me what I am? Last time I looked, I wasn't a disfigured murderer." Erik waved that comment away with the kiss he shared with Christine in the music room. He stared at the viscount with somber eyes.

"I trusted you with her and this is how you treat her." He shook his head with a chuckle. "No, I think you're the worse one in this house hold." Once again the boy went to defend himself.

"That still doesn't explain what you are doing here? Shouldn't you be beneath an Opera theater killing off people one by one?" Rumen stood at the top of the stairs and walked down, keeping his eyes on the blond one.

"He is Miss Christine's guest. Now, please Monsieur, I believe she wished you to leave." He extended an arm towards the door. The viscount gave another shocked look at the past phantom, then stormed out of the house. Erik laughed at the look on his face. I shall succeed where you have failed boy, he thought. I will free her soul where you have chained it down. Rumen sighed as he turned to the other man in the room.

"Miss Christine loathes it when he tries to beg for forgiveness. It's absolutely foolish." Erik walked up to the stairs and looked up.

"Where is the writing room?" Rumen's eyes shot open as he leaped to the stairs to get in the man's way.

"That is not wise Monsieur. No one may disturb her while she's in there. She's trying to write another play before next month, so her reputation can grow." Erik smiled.

"Perhaps she needs a break."

Christine was busy writing down dialog, or at least, trying to write. The thought of Erik in her household was unbelievable and distracting. She sighed with a huff and growled with frustration. Damn! Why did he have to be here now? Finally, she was getting on with her life and making a good one for herself. She smirked at the thought of all the people who attended her plays. None of them realize who I used to be, she thought. She laughed softly then came to a realization. But he did. Her fingers went to her neck to touch a necklace. It was a gift from Erik on her wedding to the viscount. It had seven rings for good luck. Sadly, she realized the double meaning behind it. He was there for her for seven years. Seven years of singing, comforting, and being there with her. To her horror, the necklace was gone. She screamed and ran to the music room. The curtains were closed, leaving only the candles to light the way. She couldn't find Erik but she went to the place she was sleeping.

"Where is it? Where is it?" She heard footsteps behind her.

"You mean this?" Erik stood in the doorway holding up her necklace. She stood up and walked to him, extending out her hand. He looked at it, then went around behind her.

"You shouldn't lose such a gift, if it means so much to you." He clasped it behind her neck and lifted up her hair. She stayed there, while he walked away to the piano. He started to play and Christine's heart stopped as she knew the tune. It was the same song they sang together under the Opera Populaire. The melody filled the room like running water as she turned to look at his face. She stood there and watched as Erik played the familiar song. She couldn't help herself but sing with the powerful music.

_In sleep he sang to me_

_In dreams he came…_

She stepped slowly as if the dream would shatter.

_That voice which calls to me_

_And speaks my name…_

_And do I dream again_

_For now I find_

Erik looked at her as she came closer.

_The Phantom of the Opera is there_

_Inside my mind…_

She stopped next to the piano as his gaze stayed with her, never leaving.

Sing once again with me

Our strange Duet

My power over you

Grows stronger yet

She placed a hand on the black surface and turned to see if anyone was looking.

And though you turn from me

To glance behind

Her face whirled around to him again.

The Phantom of the Opera is there

Inside your mind…

Erik played more as Christine sat next to him on the bench and gazed at him

Those who have seen your face

Draw back in fear

I am that mask you wear

She touched the mask lightly, causing him to turn his head to her

It's me they hear…

Their faces were so close.

Your/My spirit and my/your voice

In one combined

The Phantom of the Opera is there

Inside my/your mind

She turned to the door again as she sang.

He's there

The Phantom of the Opera

That's when she sang that perfect pitch. It flowed from her soul like the last three years never happened. Erik writhed in it as he played

"Sing my Angel of Music!" She did, reaching the next pitch so easily.

"Sing my angel." She climbed another scale even more perfectly then the last.

"Sing for me!" Oh did she, once again she climbed as her soul reached the ceiling and beyond.

"Sing my Angel! Sing for me!" Her voice reached the climax in that last note. When she stopped, Christine could hear her voice still bouncing off the walls. She didn't have time to rest when she felt strong hands grab hold of her waist, pressing her against a warm chest. She stayed there when the realization of what she was doing dawned on her. She sat up, trying to get away.

"Erik, wait—." She was cut off by a deep kiss. Her mind went blank at the feel of lips massaging her own. His hand came up to caress her neck and cheek, before resting at the back of her head, his fingers intertwined with her hair. Christine couldn't stop herself. Her hands started at his abdomen and slowly went up his firm chest to come behind his neck. Her fingers played with his hair. It was so soft between his fingers. The kiss deepened as his tongue slowly slid into her mouth, playing with her own. He picked her up and put her on his lap, never leaving her lips. He drank in her scent. Vanilla with jasmine and…was that rose? It only made him desire her more at that instant. The kiss began to descend to something more gentle and loving. Finally, they withdrew from each other slowly, eyes still closed. She opened her eyes slowly and looked into the blue eyes she loved so much.

"Erik…" He placed a finger on her lips softly.

"Shhh… Don't worry, I shall not break from your soft lips. I shall not shatter upon your loving embrace. And I shall not be killed by your love." Tears silently fell from her beautiful eyes. He kissed the tears away from her flushed cheeks.

"It will only make me stronger." It was then she placed a hand on his mask, caressed it then removed it. His eyes grew wide and he began to move away, but Christine captured his lips before he could do anything. His lips weren't cold like that night in his lair. They were warm, inviting, ready to capture her soul any heartbreaking moment. She drew back to see tears coming down his own cheeks. She kissed at the tears on each side of this face then caressed the scars. His fingers hovered over her cheek, then went to encircle her waist as he lowered his head to her chest to rest upon. She held him, her Erik, her Angel of Music. She waited for this for what seemed like centuries. They stayed like that until knock sounded through the room.

"Miss Christine? It's Ion, I have a letter from Monsieur Devereux. It's about Monsieur Lemont." Christine let out a growl and cursed. Erik looked up at her with confusion, wiping away the tears on his cheeks.

"What is it?" She started to get up but he held on to her. "Christine?"

"Lemont was one of my suitors under the Louver House Arrangement." Once again he was puzzled. "It's an arrangement where the suitor may stay under the same roof as I. He has two weeks to try to capture my heart. He failed early." His eyebrows furrowed together.

"What did he do?" She gave a shuddering sigh and wouldn't look into his eyes. Tenderly, he lifted her eyes to his. Tears filled them again.

"He…he tried to rape me." Shock grew on Erik's face. Where had he been when this was taking place? He left his beautiful angel alone to fend for herself. He watched as she drew back the tears, bringing back the strength it took to survive. He was so proud of her at that moment.

"Oh, Christine…" She stood up and walked to the door and opened it. Ion gave her the letter then smiled slightly. Christine looked up and saw he was trying to not laugh. She touched her lips and realized they were swollen from all the kissing. She glared at her housekeeper.

"Chiuso esso! Ottenga di nuovo a lavoro." Ion left and she closed the door. Erik looked amazed for a second.

"I didn't know you could speak Italian." She smiled as she pulled out the letter.

"See, there are things you don't know, for being a genius." She read the letter carefully. Shock went across her face then anger and then rage. She threw down the letter.

"I can't believe that bastard would go this far!" Erik picked up his mask then went over to her side.

"What is it?" She slammed her foot down.

"He's going to close down the playhouse! Dear Lord, I'm going to murder him." She let out an angry cry. "I have to get down there and confront him." She opened the door and left poor Erik there surrounded by their memory.


	11. Think of Me

**Chapter11: Think of Me**

Christine barged trough the theater doors, not even bothering to take off her coat. She entered to find the manager and Lemont shouting. Why not add my two cents, she thought.

"What is the meaning of this Lemont!" He had blond hair, shaggy, not cut very well. His face was very brutish and strong. He looked like he was older than Erik. Her eyes widened at what she just did. She LEFT him! Oh God she felt terrible. Lemont had a smirk on his face. That smug little bastard, she thought with spite.

"I am taking up my concern as a citizen of Paris to have your plays banned from being played. This gentleman here refused so, we are shutting it down." He turned to a man who held a briefcase and took out the papers. "As you can see, now your work will never be played again." He looked at her up and down with a perverted gleam in his twisted eyes. "We can always…come to an arrangement." Christine glared at him. How dare he! Trying to use her career as a means into getting into her bed. She took a deep breath before turning to the manager.

"Monsieur Devereux, would you please hand me my contract." Both men looked at her dumbfounded. The manager was trying to express his concerns.

"Mademoiselle Louver, you can't be thinking of jeopardizing your career for us. We'll get by, don't worry." She placed a hand on his shoulder, and gave him a thoughtful smile.

"Monsieur Devereux, you were the only one who would even look at my plays, and I thank you for letting me perform them here. I could never take this place away from you, no matter the costs. So please," she extended her hand for the paper, "my contract." He looked at her sadly then rummaged through his own briefcase before finding it. Hesitantly, he handed it to her. She smiled down at the print then looked to Rumen.

"Un fiammifero per favore." He took one out of his pocket and handed it to her. She stepped over to Lemont with the match in her hand. Smiling sweetly, she brought her hand up, only to strike the match on his unshaven face. He yelped at the sharp burn and she smiled. Taking one last look around, Christine smiled at everyone in there. The contract was up in flames. She threw it to the floor as it burned up before them. She gave the man a cold glare before turning to the manager.

"Monsieur, if I may, I would like to perform something for everyone here at the theater." He smiled at her and nodded.

"Anything my dear, anything." She curtsied and went to the orchestra to the man who played the piano. She talked to him briefly before ascending to the stage. Once there she smiled at everyone as the music came, all too familiar to her.

Think of me,  
Think of me fondly  
When we've said goodbye

Everyone stopped to listen to their playwright sing.

Remember me once in awhile.  
Please promise me you'll try.  
When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free  
If you ever find a moment  
Spare a thought for me!

The manager was smiling at her. What other talents was she hiding? Like she'd tell.

We never said our love was ever green  
Or as unchanging as the sea   
But if you can still remember stop and think of me!  
Think of all the things we've shared and seen  
Don't think about the way things might have been  
Think of me

The actors and stage people stopped and looked at her with wonder and amazement. This was a woman who was sent by God himself.

Think of me waking silent and resigned.  
Imagine me trying so hard to put you from my mind.  
Recall those days look back on all those times.  
Think of the things we'll never do.  
There will never be a day when I won't think of you

Stage hands cheered and whistled for her. Lemont stood there without thinking.

Flowers fade  
The fruits of summer fade  
They have their season  
So do we.  
But please promise me that sometimes  
You will think ah... of me!

The whole theater exploded into applause and cheer. She smiled wonderfully at the audience. Lemont applauded as well. Once again, she didn't notice the shadow in the dark watching her with pride and joy.


End file.
